The weather was strange, to say the least. The sky had suddenly turned dark, yet no rain fell. It remained in that half-dead, neither here nor there state until eight o’clock in the evening.
Li Xingchuan shared the snacks the senior had given him with his roommates, keeping two bags of potato chips for himself.
He finished them in no time at all, only to discover that he felt even hungrier afterward.
Boys of their age naturally had enormous appetites. Add the considerable amount of physical training they endured during the day, and it was no wonder that every dormitory echoed with nightly cries of, “I’m so hungry!” They were so ravenous that their eyes practically bulged like copper bells. Unfortunately, the cafeteria closed at seven in the evening, leaving them with no choice but to distract themselves by playing games.
Li Xingchuan’s only hope was to somehow endure the remaining three days and finally get outside to eat a proper meal, the kind a normal human being deserved.
That was when he thought of Luo Song.
Back in high school, the little shop on campus hadn’t offered much variety, and its prices were expensive, too. Luo Song had spotted a business opportunity and started ordering batch after batch of fresh snacks online. He created a group chat and established a bulk-order service for snacks in the boys’ dormitories, offering good products at reasonable prices with delivery straight to their doors. Before long, the group had expanded to nearly a hundred members.
Eventually, however, the business became so successful that a teacher caught wind of it and shut the whole operation down on the spot.
No matter how strict the rules were, that chubby guy could always find some way to come up with something new.
Li Xingchuan sent him a message.
[I’m starving to death.]
[Got anything to eat? Get me something, or I’m done for.]
[Luo Song]: ?
[Luo Song]: Go eat some Aoli Gei.
[That’s your favorite, isn’t it? A gentleman doesn’t take away what another man loves.]
[Luo Song]: Want to go out for a meal?
[Luo Song]: Right now. Let’s sneak out and get some barbecue skewers.
This time, Li Xingchuan was the one sending a question mark.
[?]
[Luo Song]: I heard it from a senior in the previous year. There’s a place where it’s really easy to climb over the wall. I went out with some buddies a few days ago. There’s a little night market about two or three kilometers away. It’s pretty lively, with tons of street food.
[Luo Song]: You in?
Li Xingchuan slapped his thigh.
[Let’s go!]
He quickly put on his clothes, moved closer to Ji Wangcheng, and lowered his voice to ask, “Luo Song invited me to sneak out and eat some barbecue skewers. Are you coming?”
At the familiar name, Ji Wangcheng frowned.
His expression made it seem as though he were about to lecture Li Xingchuan for disregarding the rules and behaving like a delinquent who refused to conform.
“Forget it.” Seeing that Ji Wangcheng didn’t seem particularly willing to go, and remembering his health condition, Li Xingchuan immediately changed his mind. “I’ll just pack something for you and bring it back. I’m off, then.”
The military training base had two main gates, one in the east and one in the west. There was also a small iron gate on the southeastern side, barely wide enough for one person to pass through.
That little iron gate was the loophole.
Li Xingchuan met up with one of the friends Luo Song had brought along. With astonishing ease, the two of them climbed over the iron gate and scaled the wall, successfully escaping from their very own prison.
By the time they had stealthily slipped out of the military training base, the gloomy darkness that had begun gathering in the evening had completely swallowed the entire sky.
The heavens were so black that it looked as though ink might drip from them, and an ominous mist seemed to flow through the dimness.
A few minutes later, violent winds began to howl.
The military training base had excellent greenery, and there was even a mountain nearby. The trees covering its slopes swayed wildly, their branches tossing back and forth in the wind.
Whoosh… whoosh…
The paper mulberry tree beside the dormitory building stood nearly three stories tall. Its trunk and branches rocked from side to side in the fierce gusts.
“What a strong wind.”
One of the boys quietly reached over and locked the window.
“If it’s going to rain, do you think they’ll cancel training?”
“—It absolutely has to rain tomorrow!”
“Better yet, let it pour! If there’s a huge storm, maybe they’ll end military training early!”
“I’m so hungry…”
“I’m starving, too!!”
The roommates chattered away, one after another, discussing everything that came to mind.
The violent wind outside didn’t frighten them in the slightest. On the contrary, the possibility that rain might spare them from training had them getting excited.
Only Wang Wenyuan, whose bed was beside the door, stared at the window with his eyes wide open.
Although he had performed poorly on the college entrance examination, the questions had been unusually difficult that year, and the overall admission scores had dropped compared with previous years. He had managed to scrape through by the narrowest margin and was successfully admitted to the School of Agriculture, the faculty at Yuda with the lowest admission cutoff.
Wang Wenyuan often thought back to that day when he had encountered something truly ghostly. The strange shadows cast by the trees had lain in wait like snakes, and taking his life had seemed as effortless as plucking a leaf from a branch. Every time he dreamed about that incident, he would wake up drenched in sweat.
He believed that he had attracted the attention of some indescribable, incomprehensible entity. Other people, however, had repeatedly tried to reassure him, telling him the same thing over and over.
“The weather was just too hot that day. You suffered heatstroke and collapsed on the road, and a campus security guard on patrol found you. …Huh? You encountered a ghost? Maybe you fell when you passed out from the heat and hit your head, which made you hallucinate?”
What other people dismissed as a hallucination had been a very real nightmare to Wang Wenyuan.
Nearly two months had passed since that incident. Now, as he looked out of the window, he saw snake-like shadows appearing in the air once again.
A chill ran through him. Suppressing his trembling, he turned to his roommates and said, “Look outside… Isn’t there something out there?”
The roommate standing by the window glanced outside as requested and replied casually, “Something? What is there to see? It hasn’t even started raining yet.”
The others chimed in, agreeing with him.
But Wang Wenyuan could see it perfectly clearly.
The black shadows were swimming through the air, chasing the currents and being carried along by the wind. They were everywhere, impossible to escape.
Like blood flowing endlessly through veins, they repeatedly collided and merged with one another, gradually condensing into purplish-black patterns that resembled the branching paths of veins.
…What is that?
A little over twenty minutes later, Li Xingchuan, Luo Song, and Lin Jinrong arrived at the night market.
Lin Jinrong was Luo Song’s roommate. He came from northeastern China and had an outgoing, straightforward personality, along with an accent so distinctive that it was almost comical. Luo Song, who practically suffered from an incurable case of social confidence, had quickly become sworn brothers with his northern buddy. In just a few days, Lin Jinrong’s accent had already begun rubbing off on him.
“I saw that article about you. Several girls in our class think you’re handsome,” Lin Jinrong said generously, making no attempt to hide his praise. “I’m the first one to meet you in person. When I go back and tell them, they’ll be green with envy.”
Luo Song joined in, adding to the hype. “My Brother Shan has been the school-heartthrob type since high school.”
Li Xingchuan retorted, “If I’d known you were going to keep bragging like this, I wouldn’t have bothered coming out for barbecue. The hot air coming out of your mouths would have been enough to fill my stomach.”
The three of them walked into a barbecue restaurant. Lin Jinrong was utterly astonished when he saw the skewers of corn kernels on the menu. He genuinely couldn’t understand how anyone could have the nerve to sell something like that. Back where he came from, an entire ear of corn cost only four yuan.
The barbecue restaurant was doing brisk business, but the food came out fairly quickly. Once they had eaten almost their fill, Li Xingchuan got up, selected a few skewers, and asked the owner to pack them up for takeaway.
“Not full yet?” Luo Song asked. “Why are you ordering so much more?”
“I’m bringing some back for Ji Wangcheng,” Li Xingchuan replied.
Of course, he couldn’t bring food back for Ji Wangcheng alone. He would have to consider the other people left in their dormitory, too. After thinking it over, Li Xingchuan ordered another portion of fried rice. At least that was a relatively light option.
Lin Jinrong asked, “Who’s Ji Wangcheng?”
“My childhood friend. We’re roommates now, too.”
Lin Jinrong looked envious. “You’ve got it so good! Your home is close to the university, and your roommate is your childhood friend. You’re living the comfortable life, aren’t you? My childhood friend went to university in the capital. Now we can only see each other during the holidays.”
As he spoke, he took out his phone and generously showed Luo Song and Li Xingchuan some pictures.
As expected, the photos of friends stored on a straight guy’s phone were mostly ugly, ridiculous pictures that could double as memes. Lin Jinrong had photographed his childhood friend in such an abstract way that it was difficult to make out his features, though one could vaguely tell that he was a rather handsome young man with delicate, well-defined features.
Li Xingchuan asked casually, “Which university does he attend?”
“Capital Aviation University. He’s studying engineering, too. The two of us had agreed to apply to Yuda together, but then, in his final year of high school, he suddenly changed his mind and insisted on changing his application to a university in the capital.”
Luo Song said, “The capital’s pretty good, though. Why did he change his mind?”
Lin Jinrong explained, “He said he’d joined some kind of association or organization. Its headquarters are in the capital, so studying there would make it easier for him to participate in their activities. Apparently, they’d even help him get household registration there and arrange a job for him in the future, and stuff like that.”
Li Xingchuan burst out laughing. “That’s impressive! Can you get me in, too?”
Lin Jinrong slapped his thigh. “Hey! I asked him the same thing. Guess what he told me? He said you need to have a superpower to qualify! Hahahaha!”
Luo Song chimed in, “Does being able to eat a ridiculous amount count as a superpower? Because if it does, I’m qualified, too!”
The television inside the barbecue restaurant was playing The Voice of the Heart, a long-running amateur singing program that had been around for more than a decade. It was specifically scheduled to air during the summer season.
Luo Song nudged Li Xingchuan with his elbow and tried to persuade him once again. “Brother Shan, why don’t you sign up for that show, too? You never know!”
Li Xingchuan waved him off. “Forget it. I’m only half-decent at singing. There’s no way I’d get selected.”
Lin Jinrong had also picked up the habit of calling him “Brother Shan.” He immediately joined in. “Whoa, you can sing, too? Brother Shan, how about singing something for us right now and opening our eyes?”
The three of them continued joking around, trading teasing remarks and poking fun at one another.
Before long, the additional skewers and fried rice Li Xingchuan had ordered were packed up and ready to go. It was already a little past ten o’clock. By the time they returned to the military training base, it would probably be around half past ten—a time that was far too late for dinner, yet still a little too early for a proper late-night snack.
As soon as they stepped outside the restaurant, a wave of heat washed over them. Luo Song’s glasses immediately fogged up.
While the two people beside him complained about Yucheng’s climate, Li Xingchuan turned his head and glanced back at the singer on the television.
The first time he had watched this program had been ten years earlier, at Ji Wangcheng’s house.
Back then, the old-fashioned, bulky CRT television was still the standard fixture in the living rooms of ordinary families in Yucheng. Families with slightly better financial circumstances had already upgraded to LCD televisions.
The LCD television in Ji Wangcheng’s home, however, had an especially enormous screen. It had to be at least sixty inches.
Li Xingchuan had never seen such a large television with such a high-definition picture before. He was absolutely astonished and immediately started flipping through several channels. Unfortunately, none of the cartoons he liked happened to be airing at that time, so he casually switched over to The Voice of the Heart.
A female singer was performing Love Should Be Open and Honest, accompanying herself on the guitar. Her voice was clear and powerful, and she carried herself onstage with effortless confidence and poise.
“Love should be open and honest, not pretending until the end of time. Please, let your love be open and honest…”
Li Xingchuan stopped changing channels. Without even realizing it, he had also stopped eating his ice cream, listening attentively until the song was over.
When the performance ended, young Li Xingchuan was so stirred up with excitement that he immediately turned to Ji Wangcheng, expecting him to share some thoughts about the song Love Should Be Open and Honest. He had a whole stomachful of comments ready to pour out, fully prepared to enthusiastically agree with whatever Ji Wangcheng said.
But nothing of the sort happened.
Ji Wangcheng didn’t even seem to have been listening to the singer. He was simply staring at Li Xingchuan’s hand.
Under Li Xingchuan’s hopeful gaze, Ji Wangcheng opened his mouth and solemnly pointed out, “Shanshan, your ice cream is melting.”
…He was completely impervious to persuasion.
Li Xingchuan burst out laughing.
That single sentence—Your ice cream is melting—became the final, unforgettable line of that little episode, leaving a deep impression in his memory alongside the song itself.
When he participated in his high school’s singing competition, he chose the song for the final without giving it much thought. Since the song itself wasn’t particularly difficult, the judges didn’t give him especially high marks. Despite the enthusiastic response from the audience below the stage, he ultimately came in second.
Even now, he could still remember that it had been a vanilla-flavored Cornetto.
A Cornetto he had eaten together with Ji Wangcheng.
Back at the military training base, Shan Bai and Li Xuanzhi were standing on top of the rooftop water tank, their expressions grave.
The shadows in the sky were gradually colliding and merging, growing larger and larger. Dark and ominous, they circled around the three dormitory buildings, swimming in endless loops. A faint, restless buzzing could be heard in the air.
Whoosh… whoosh…
Shan Bai was kneeling halfway on the ground, one palm pressed against the surface beneath him. A faint white glow flowed from his palm, spreading across the surfaces of every building within the military training base. Hidden beneath the cover of night, the light was invisible to the naked eye.
Meanwhile, inside the dormitory buildings, students were going about their usual business. Those who were supposed to turn off the lights did so, while those who wanted to play games continued playing.
The students remained completely unaware of the abnormalities unfolding outside.
“Has the support team arrived?” Shan Bai asked. “What if he suddenly goes berserk?”
“In that case…” Li Xuanzhi gazed straight ahead, his left hand slowly rolling the Buddhist prayer beads. His expression remained calm and composed as he let out a very soft sigh. “…No matter who comes, no one will be able to stop him.”
Silence fell between them.
Half a minute later, as Li Xuanzhi continued explaining the situation, Shan Bai suddenly realized something. A chill ran down his spine, and he was instantly horrified.
“Hey, Monk, don’t tell me you still haven’t reported this!”
He gradually began to lose his mind. “This is a prestigious university with several thousand people on campus! If even the slightest bit of this gets discovered, it’ll turn into a major public incident! Do you have any idea how much trouble it’ll be to deal with the aftermath? Have you watched so many female streamers that they’ve rotted your brain, too? Hurry up and go—”
Faced with Shan Bai’s relentless barrage of questions, Li Xuanzhi raised his hand, formed a hand seal with his fingers, and pressed it against the center of Shan Bai’s forehead.
“Calm down,” he said. “You’ve been affected by his magnetic field, too.”
Shan Bai had been about to argue, but the words suddenly caught in his throat. In an instant, his vision seemed to clear, and the anger that had been surging inside him began to subside.
…That was true.
He, too, had been affected by the magnetic field of this completely unconscious natural disaster, his mind influenced without his even realizing it.
Shan Bai’s confidence faltered. He asked, “Then what do we do now?”
Li Xuanzhi pondered for a moment. Then, just as his hand movements came to an abrupt halt, he made up his mind.
“Make a phone call. Get Li Xingchuan to come back.”
Shan Bai frowned, clearly disapproving of the idea. “Li Xingchuan is just an ordinary person. What’s the point of calling him back? So he can come here and get himself killed?”
Li Xuanzhi asked, “Is that really what you think?”
Shan Bai replied, “What else am I supposed to think?”
Li Xuanzhi sighed once again and, with an expression of absolute serenity, recited his habitual phrase, “May Buddha show compassion.”
That was what he said.
But the expression on his face made his actual thoughts perfectly clear.
May Buddha forgive this idiot, because I certainly won’t.
Shan Bai: “…??”